Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
Patrick
I’m not a complex guy, really. All I want is a sincere apology from Sara. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.
As I walk through the school doors the next morning, I wonder if today is the day Sara comes to this realization herself.
It’s been over a week since we last spoke.
This is the longest we’ve gone without talking aside from the time she went on vacation with her dad and accidentally dropped her phone in the ocean, which she said made her feel like “a prairie girl” since she had no technological means of communication.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss her.
I’m extra-early, which means there aren’t a ton of students around. Am I secretly hoping Sara’s early, too, and that she’ll approach me with an apology? Maybe. But I don’t spot her anywhere.
I do, however, find her tutor when I round the corner to get to my locker. There’s no one else in this wing. Huh. I wonder why he’s also early.
“Hey, Sara’s tutor.”
He glances over his shoulder and, upon recognizing me, arranges his face into a look of utter annoyance. Without a single word he resumes digging through his locker. Pretty rude, if you ask me. What did I ever do to him?
“You’re here early.” Then, just to get under his skin, I say, “Avoiding someone?”
His head jerks in my direction, clearly caught off guard. “What? Uh—no.”
“C’mon, I know you’re Sara’s neighbor,” I say, cutting through his white lie. “She tells me everything, although we’re kind of going through a rough patch right now. She was supposed to do me a favor, but then she forgot and it really screwed me over.”
Oliver shoves a textbook in his locker. Hard. Metal rattles, echoing through the empty hall.
“Anyway, I’m trying to figure out how to make amends with her,” I go on. “I don’t want to just let it go, you know? So I’m hoping she’ll apologize—”
“Why are you telling me all this?”
“Well, since you’re her tutor and you spend so much time together, I was hoping maybe you’d talk to her.”
Did this plan form in my mind the minute I saw him standing here alone? Yes. Will I admit that to him? Never.
Oliver slams his locker then whirls around to face me, mouth flat. “Nope. No way. No. Stop involving me in your weird relationship problem. I’ve got enough going on already. Figure it out on your own.”
I scoff then slide my backpack straps off my shoulders. No wonder Sara called tutoring a nightmare. This guy’s the worst.
“What are you even talking about? When have we ever involved you, dude?”
He tugs his backpack on, glaring at me from behind those glasses he always wears. “I’m not an idiot. I remember you two from the subway station.”
My heart lurches in my chest. I’m too shocked to immediately lob a snarky reply, but it doesn’t matter, because he’s already walking away.
“Why—wait, what? ” I splutter. “I mean, what subway station? I’ve never even been there! I don’t know what a subway is!”
Oliver rounds the corner, disappearing from sight. And here I am looking foolish, calling out to nobody. Huh, I guess he knew all along. There’s nothing I can do about that now.
Oh boy, I can’t wait to see the look on Sara’s face when she finds out about this.
Except she won’t. Because we’re not talking.
And if I told her that Subwayboy knows she’s the girl who came up and asked to kiss him, she’d get really upset.
She’d been trying so hard to hide her identity and then, when she finally worked up the courage to tell him, she couldn’t.
Even though we’re not speaking, I don’t want her to feel miserable.
Besides, she’s been distracted by the wrong things lately.
This is another unnecessary distraction, kind of like our fight.
Have I even crossed her mind in the last few days? Surely I have. She must miss me, right? Not that I want her to miss me.
Except, don’t I want that? Hasn’t it been torture seeing her eat lunch with Joe?
Oh man. What’s wrong with me? This is so stupid.
I spin my locker combination and right as I’m throwing open the door, I’m bombarded with an avalanche of—valentines? Gasping in shock, I leap back. Out topples confetti hearts and flower petals and sweet-smelling envelopes sealed with heart-shaped stickers.
What the heck? Is this a joke?
I collect the mess into a pile on the floor, reaching for heart-shaped note the size of a textbook. There’s no name written on the front, but there is one thing—
Your anonymous lover.